The Ghost of Azkaban
by DylantheRabbit
Summary: Jasmine Potter is dead. She is gone and I am what remains, The Ghost of Azkaban. A short, dark and dirty story full of angst and horror, infused with a touch of black humour. Inspired by FateRogue's very brilliant 'The Blackest of Souls'.


**A longish one shot of another one of those ideas that just would not leave me alone. It is my own homage to a great story that I read recently called 'The Blackest of Souls' by FateRogue and the places that it took me to. Particularly in the first few chapters.**

 **If you hadn't guessed from the summary this story is going to be considerably darker than my usual fare. Not much in the way of fluff and fun here I'm afraid as this is from that deep, dark place at the depressive end of my mind which makes, thankfully, infrequent appearances.**

 **Some major bashing of the 'light' characters including quite a few of everybodys fanfic favourites going on here so don't be expecting a happy ending for everyone. Or anyone much for that matter.**

 **Only my second foray into the minefield that is 'first person' perspective so please forgive any rookie errors that I may make along the way.**

 **Do I really need to say that this will be massively AU and OOC.**

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 **I'm not JKR and I don't make any money from this. Which is a bit of a shame.**

 **DtR xx.**

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 **The Ghost of Azkaban.**

.

March the Twelfth, Nineteen Ninety Four. That's the day my life ended.

What happened in the graveyard that Cedric and I were transported to at the end of the third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament was bad enough, but how people reacted when I reappeared with his lifeless body in my arms was worse. The accusations and incriminations that came my way had me so stunned that I barely managed to get two words out before I was dragged off to a Ministry holding cell.

They didn't heal my wounds before they started my 'interrogation'. In fact, the Minister and his attack dogs of the Auror division seemed to take some perverse pleasure in seeing my body shaking and twitching with the after effects of the cruciatus with which I had been repeatedly hit. Even with my poor physical and mental state it was obvious that they didn't get the answers that they wanted from me, but I had nothing to give them but the truth.

The truth of what had actually happened was, it appeared, the last thing that the Magical government wanted. Something that I might have picked up on if I hadn't been so distracted by the twitching and the bleeding and the pain. But probably not. I wasn't exactly blessed with an over-abundance of perceptive thinking even on my best day back then. If I had of been, I might have shut my damn mouth before spilling things that nobody wanted to hear.

Still not healed, still not fed, not allowed to sleep or rest, I was dragged in front of the Wizengamot early the next day and put on trial for the murder of Cedric Diggory. I was draped in an open, black robe that showed the blood stains on my shirt beneath, chained into the defendant's chair and silenced with a wave of Kingsley Shacklebolt's wand. That was the moment, I think, that I realised that Albus Dumbledore actually wanted me to be found guilty.

The old meddler was always putting my happiness, well-being, life and sanity at risk for his own, unstated, purposes. Although I was at a loss to reason how me being tried (and likely convicted) for a murder that I didn't commit helped his 'greater good'. Still, he was one of the good guys and I trusted him to do what was right so that I didn't actually end up in prison for something that I didn't do.

Merlin, what a fucking idiot I was.

The fact that the Weasleys betrayed me was not exactly a surprise. Ronald had been doing it every year since I had known him and Percy was one of the most insufferable, head up his arse, authority figures are never wrong, tossers that I have ever met. They had to have got it from somewhere and after the old ginger bitch had taken her turn on the stand I knew where. Indeed, the only one that truly disappointed me was Ginny.

I had saved her from the diary and protected her from the backlash of those seeking vengeance in the aftermath of the Chamber of Secrets business. I had thought her an ally. I had thought her a friend. So, for her to accuse me of the vile and disgusting things that she did that day was like a knife in my guts. I finally realised, with the way that she twisted that knife so delicately and so viciously, that she was as much of a cunt as her harridan of a mother.

Then _she_ had spoken and my world collapsed.

Hermione Granger was my everything. I lived to make the clever girl with the bushy hair and buck teeth smile. It made my heart flutter and my limbs go all ... floopy and floppy. She had been my best friend and not so secret crush since the day I had first met her. That was why, when she started talking about my crazy, stalkerish pursuit of her (all true, I'm afraid) and my constant inappropriate touching and attempts at forced seduction (not true but I admit that I had definitely thought about doing that), it hurt so much. Even more than the Weasleys it was Hermione's quiet, sobbing, voice as she laid out her made up events and false claims, that damned me.

That she could lie so completely about me, even under orders from her beloved Headmaster, well ... it didn't just break my heart. It shattered it.

The only person who even attempted to help me was Luna Lovegood. Dear, sweet, naive, Luna. My vigorous defense of her during those early days when she had been bullied so relentlessly had made me something of a heroine to the poor girl and she apparently wanted to return the favour. Her strange, distracted, rambling about my inherent goodness and pure intentions did nothing to offset the previous testimony and when she started talking about nargles and wrackspurts I knew it was over. I loved her for trying, but it was over.

Guilty. It was done. I didn't blame the jury. There was no other verdict that they could have given, considering the 'evidence' that Umbridge had fabricated and the damning character assassination that they had heard from witness after witness. And I as received my sentence my stoic, silent resolve finally broke.

Life.

Azkaban.

I am not proud of my reaction to those words but I believe that I may be forgiven the screaming and the hysterical break down that I had then, desperately calling for the Headmaster, for anyone, to help me. Stronger men and women than me have done similar when faced with the fate that was about to befall me.

So here I was in my own personal hell.

I was dumped into the smallest cell of the deepest dungeon in the ancient, prison island. No light reached down here. Ever. The only time the darkness retreated even slightly was when my meagre ration of thin gruel was pushed through the normally closed grate at the bottom of the heavy door. Of course, whoever delivered the 'meals' never entered and never spoke. Far from the heroine of the light I was now the most despised criminal in Wizarding Britain and I was left alone. Alone in the dark. Just my own thoughts and the Dementors to keep me company.

Things were actually okay for the first few ... days? ... weeks? ... months? I had no way of knowing. The hideous creatures that guarded and visited me feasted on something that I couldn't feel, but while they had burned through, what I now know to be Voldemort's soul fragment, I actually felt lighter. Okay, so the flashes of his memories that I got during their frequent visits weren't very nice but I was still me. I felt better. More alive. It wasn't destined to last.

Once they had taken his soul they started in on mine. And it didn't take very long for me to break.

Terrified and alone. Doomed to re-live the worst days of my life under the tender attentions of my new jailers in the pitch black, foul smelling, pit with the stench of the betrayal of those I had trusted and my own own filth heavy in my nostrils. I broke easily and forever. Jasmine Potter died in that hole, never to return.

.

After what felt like several lifetimes alone in the dark with my nightmares, I was suddenly awoken by the screeching of rusty hinges as the door to my cell was forced open. I scuttled away into the furthest corner of my 'home', now unused to and scared by the dim light that entered.

"Get her up."

A rough cloak was thrown over me and was pulled to my feet. I whimpered and immediately collapsed back to the filthy floor as my atrophied limbs screamed in pain. I tried to weakly protest through being lifted and carried bodily out into the prison proper but my voice was gone, destroyed by months upon months of howling in terror. Whimpering in pain and fear hadn't really been my style before but that girl, the 'girl who lived' was gone. I didn't know what was left but it appeared that crying wasn't well thought of now either and I sucked it up and forced myself to silence.

Even the crippling pain from the jostling as I was carried, none too gently, out of Azkaban didn't make me call out. It felt humiliating to be carried like a rag doll but I was prepared to put up with it for now. I needed to regain some strength and it had to be done the old fashioned way. From what I heard, as I was unceremoniously dumped into a warm leather lined cocoon, any magic would be more likely to kill me than heal me since I was so weak.

This was obviously the reason that this muggle automobile was being used to move me to, wherever my new accommodation would be, as well. The confusion at my sudden release was beginning to crowd in on me now. I needed more information. Curled into a ball on the back seat of the roomy car I feigned sleep in order to listen in to their conversation. It was quite enlightening.

"I don't like this Moody. We shouldn't be taking her there of all places."

Moody? As in Mad-eye Moody the ex-Auror who had been one of my interrogators?

"You don't have to like it Tonks, you just have to do it."

Yep, that was Mad-eye alright. The bastard.

"Dumbledore wants her at the Weasleys and that's where she's going. Besides I can't think of anyone who will take better care of her than Molly."

I could. Voldemort would be better than Molly fucking Weasley. Or maybe Satan.

"But they betrayed her. She's going to ... "

I was just thinking that I was starting to like this vaguely familiar 'Tonks' person when Moody cut us both off.

"She's going to do as she's damn well told _Nymphadora_. And so are you. Now shut up and let me concentrate on keeping this damned muggle death-trap on the bloody road."

She didn't shut up totally and continued to question her mentor. It was from this ride that I first learned many of the details of the events at the Department of Mysteries and the death of Sirius Black. As well as the very public appearance of Lord Voldemort and the subsequent vindication of my innocence from his own lips.

I heard all of it, took it all in, and felt ... nothing. The destruction of my soul had been so complete that I couldn't feel anything much. No joy at my release, no sadness at the death of my god-father, no relief at the survival of my former friends.

In fact, the only feelings I did have were disappointment that they _had_ survived the Death Eaters and an unholy rage that they had been the ones condemn me to the Hell on Earth that was Azkaban in the first place. So that's what I held on to. Gripped and held on to with a ferocity that would not be denied.

Rage.

I was going to make damn, fucking sure that every person associated with the old cock-sucker's Order of the Phoenix would be regretting their decision to join for the rest of their short, pain filled lives.

.

Jasmine Potter had loved every second of the time that she had spent at the warm, loving, crazy, tumbledown home that was 'The Burrow' but I was not that girl any more. All I felt on being pushed through the front door and confronted with the family who had betrayed me was fear. Fear that I would be hugged to death by the traitors or perhaps worse, pitied. Fear and my new, all consuming rage that is.

"No, don't touch her."

It may have been Moody's warning that stopped the descending Weasleys in their tracks but I think that it had more to do with the feral snarl and bared teeth, in all their black, rotting glory, that I let out. Whatever it was, the fact that I was clearly not going to accept their 'hospitality' with any kind of good grace was hammered home into the assembled thick, ginger skulls.

Released from the grip of the Aurors as they moved in front of me to prevent the family from approaching me, I scuttled into the corner of the sitting room and crouched behind a table that I overturned to act as a physical shield.

It took them a good hour to stop trying to apologise to me or coax me out to the heavily laden dinner table before giving up and leaving me to my glowering silence in the corner. I'll admit that the smell of all that wonderful food was tempting but there was no way that I was going to give those bastards the satisfaction of seeing me break. Besides I knew that my shrunken stomach couldn't have handled the wealth of starchy, fatty roasted and baked goods laid out there. Meals consisting of the thinnest of gruel for sixteen long months didn't exactly leave you with a big appetite.

The thoughtless gingers, having exhausted their patience, decided to pay me no mind and tuck in to their feast with all of their customary gusto. All it made me feel was sick. And I at least on person at that table seemed to share this feeling.

Hermione Granger sat there next to the human garbage disposal that was Ron Weasley picking at her plate and shooting wary, hooded glances across the room at me, with her face set to that familiar, 'I was right' expression. Sanctimonious bitch. I watched them stuffing their faces and took a short, pleasurable mental journey imagining them being torn apart, tortured and killed by Voldemort and his cronies. They had better hope that he got to them first. I would be considerably less merciful. There was no pity left in me.

All I wanted from these fuckers was to stay alive until I recovered and wait for my vengeance.

Dinner for the ginger fuckers and their guest was done soon enough and they all moved back into the sitting room to stare at me. Another hour or so of half hearted attempts to get me to move out of the corner and they finally got bored and pissed off to their comfortable beds. No doubt patting each other the back for taking in the poor, damaged convict and trying to 'help' her. The fact that I didn't want their assistance or their pity never once seemed to enter their heads. And they left the lights on which hurt my eyes and gave me a horrifying headache.

Cunts.

Once certain that they were all asleep I moved at last, crawling painfully, trying to force myself up onto shaky legs. It took a fair while to get myself back to the main entrance but I made it eventually. There was a small surprise that the front door remained unlocked but it was a good surprise as I don't think that I would have been up to hunting around the place for a key just then. I opened the door and slipped silently out into the dark of the night.

.

Once through the wards that surrounded the grounds of the Burrow I dropped the heavy cloak that Tonks had provided and shrugged out of the threadbare, striped, prison robes. My 'trial' and incarceration had left me more than a little paranoid and at this point freezing in the cold night air seemed eminently preferable to being tracked with any charms that may have been hidden in my clothing.

I stretched out my stiff limbs carefully and sucked in my first, painful, lungful of free air, my breath making small clouds in front of me as I began to move unsteadily away into the woods outside Ottery St. Catchpole. I hadn't made it very far when the crack of an apparition in front of me caused me to flinch and lose my newly rediscovered balance and I fell to my knees.

"The great Missy Jazzy Potter, I finds you at last."

"Dobby?" I croaked out.

I shouldn't have been surprised, the little guy was always able to find me no matter where I was and I hadn't been able to work out how he did it then either. I tried to ask him but the words wouldn't come, they just turned into a painful, wracking cough. He looked horrified at my plight and gripped me around the knees. Much more gently than his usual embraces it has to be said, but his head was now uncomfortably close to my, now very over-grown, lady garden.

Pushing him away was not possible right now but my efforts seemed to be noticed and he pulled back himself.

"Oh Miss Jazzy, what has they done to you?"

So I probably looked a bit of a sight then. I suspected that I could probably use a bath and I definitely needed somewhere safe to recuperate from my extended stay at Hotel Azkaban. Somewhere nobody would look for me. An idea popped into my head and I managed to growl out.

"Shriek ... shack."

The little elf's huge eyes lit up as understanding came to him and before I could protest and explain what the magic might do to me in my weakened state he had grabbed my hand and apparated us both there. It damn nearly killed me. He was very apologetic of course, but Dobby, being Dobby, tended to express his apologies in rather strange ways.

So it was that I found myself being chastised by a tiny, female elf, who seemed slightly drunk, and promising not to get myself put in prison again while she made something delicious smelling on a stove that Dobby had _acquired_ from somewhere. Honestly, it's better not to ask with him. Of all the times that I did make that mistake I can't remember one where I didn't regret it afterwards.

Whatever crime spree he had been on was clearly lucrative, however, as the shrieking shack now resembled an almost livable space, with a bed, a bath and some fluffy towels and warm looking clothes hanging up on a rack. It also included an area for the two elves to sleep. At my questioning glance the embarrassed elf admitted that he had bonded to me while I had passed out after our interesting arrival. And then persuaded Winky to do the same.

I wasn't upset. I couldn't afford to be. Not now. Not when I needed the help so badly and they were so willing to give it. So, they had tricked me into a House Elf bond? So what. It just showed how resourceful and loyal they were. Besides, that Winky could really cook.

The thin soup was amazing, the bath that followed it was even better.

Winky and Dobby thoroughly and carefully soaped up their new Mistress, their gentle ministrations making me increasingly sleepy until a large tub of fresh, warm water was dumped over my head by my most enthusiastic servant.

.

It took two days filled with more warm baths, vile tasting potions including those for blood replenishing, nutrient and dreamless sleep before I was in a fit enough state to question my little helpers. The news was more or less as I had expected.

I finally managed to persuade Winky to bring me a mirror, which she did grudgingly and a little fearfully, and I looked at myself in the reflective surface for the first time in what felt like forever. It could have been worse. Of course, it could have been better.

I was barely recognisable as a human being, let alone the 'girl-who-lived'.

The jagged scar was still there, though much faded now, sitting above black eyebrows and sunken, dull forest green eyes, speckled with uneven black spots. They contained no trace of the bright emerald colour that they had been and were sunken deep into their sockets, highlighting the hollowness of my cheeks.

Once cleaned of it's year and a half's worth of dirt and grime my once black hair was revealed to have turned a startling white. Although it did retain one slender streak of it's previous dark colour that ran just left of centre from the roots at my skull all the way down to the tips that now brushed my lower back. And it was the same with my skin, waxy, dry and so pale that I was almost translucent. Sixteen months in the dark had not done me any favours.

I looked terrible. Like a ghost. A really thin ghost.

I looked like I had been starved, beaten bloody and then fed through a grinder. Which, in a way, is precisely what had happened to me.

"Did anyone else try to help?"

"Your little Loony girl tried Mistress but ... they put her away when she wouldn't stop defending you."

"Where?"

"They put her away with the mad ones at the big London hospital, Mistress."

The psychiatric ward at St. Mungo's then. The one person who had stood by me had been sentenced to her own form of imprisonment, in her own form of Hell. That was not going to stand.

"Can you get to her Winky?" The elf shook her head sadly. "Fine, see if you can find us some kind of weapons and then we'll go and get her together. We'll have to break her out, bring her back here and then we'll figure out our next move."

It was all I could manage. My voice still raw from sixteen months of almost constant screaming had had more then enough for now.

"Ise be getting Dobby, he bes very good at finding needful things."

He was despatched and back within the hour with an armful of stuff which he deposited on the old, threadbare rug with a great deal of pride and an enormous grin. He was right to be proud too. It was an impressive haul. Laid out on the floor in front of us was a strange collection of various items that Dobby had considered to be 'useful'.

A white trenchcoat, nasty looking boots in various sizes, hats, masks, clubs, bats and even a couple of wands (again, I _really_ didn't want to know). And most usefully from my point of view since I couldn't use a wand yet. A double barreled, sawn-off shotgun with a veritable mountain of differently coloured shells.

Okay, so we had the tools, now we just needed a plan.

.

There were relatively few staff on duty at St. Mungo's that night. This was a good thing for them. I'm sure that those who weren't there that night were grateful not to have had a run in with two insane House elves in face scarves and tri-corn, highwayman hats, one armed with a spiked club and the other a heavy, cast iron frying pan. Not to mention the 'ghost' who was with them. And I did look rather intimidating in my floor length, white, coat and hockey mask, I admit.

"Everybody be cool, this is a kidnapping." My voice behind the mask was loud and gruff but still calm and collected. It got considerably more heated and venomous with my next statement. "Any of you fucking pricks move and I'll execute every mother-fucking last one of you."

Of course, somebody moved.

I opened up with my shotgun and the buckshot took the stupid wizard high in the shoulder, separating his arm from his body in a cloud of red and sending it and his wand skittering across the floor.

I hadn't actually been aiming for him, it was supposed to have been a warning shot, but my vision was still a little weird from Azkaban and the hospital florescents weren't really helping either. Meh, fuck him. He shouldn't have pulled his wand. And at least he had made a useful example to the others, hopefully making them less likely to try and emulate him in playing the hero.

It wasn't until Dobby had cut the next charging moron off at the knees and Winky had applied the coup-de-grace to him with her frying pan that I remembered I was dealing wih magicals. There were fools, damned dools and wizards. I decided that another example was necessary and blew a fist sized hole in this one's chest with the second barrel of my sawn-off before calmly reloading and turning back to the remaining three staff members.

I was going to say something intimidating like 'who's next assholes?' but, disappointingly, it was not even slightly necessary. The two witches and one wizard had got to their knees, placed their wands on the floor and their hands on their heads while trying very hard to avoid looking at me. Well wasn't this all going terribly well. Apart from the cold blooded murder of two innocent, but extraordinarily stupid, wizards obviously. And frankly, even that was a bit fun. I _loved_ my new shotgun.

Finding Luna in the ward turned out to be much simpler than I had expected since my captives seemed to be tripping over themselves to provide me with whatever I needed. And what I needed was in room Seventeen. My helpful guides swiftly took me there and unlocked the door, hoping to get me and my two deranged elves out of their hospital as fast as possible I suppose. I couldn't really blame them for that, I had just murdered two of their colleagues in front of them after all.

For someone who had been locked up for almost as long as I had Luna Lovegood looked pretty damn good. Better than I had a few days ago. Better than I still did, truth be told. But then she had been kept clean, warm and well fed, at least. The chances of survival for the rest of the St. Mungo's staff here in the Psychiatric ward had just improved exponentially.

"Hello Jasmine Potter."

The large, grey eyes had opened and were staring into mine, still hidden beneath the hockey mask, now with that spacy, dreamy look that I remembered so well from before. I smiled for the first time since before the third task, exercising muscles that hadn't been used in over a year and a half and causing me some pain. I didn't pay it any mind.

"Hi Luna. How have you been?"

.

Luna had taken over bath duties at our dingy little hideout, insisting on getting in with me so that she could use her body heat to help dispel the still near constant chill in my bones. She took an immense amount of joy in washing me. Being naked with me. Holding me. Touching me. The first time she stroked me to orgasm in the warm, sudsy water I thought that her face might split apart from the width of her smile.

It was rather pleasant.

But it brought up some thoughts about a very unpleasant task that I needed to take care of.

"I can't love you Luna."

The girl looked utterly grief stricken and I felt an odd desire to ease her pain.

"I just don't have the capacity to love anymore. The dementors did their work well, you understand."

Her tears were now streaming down her face though in sadness for me of for herself I had no way of knowing.

"Even though I can't love you, I will give you all that have to give. All that I _can_ give. You will always have my gratitude, my respect, my fidelity and my body if you so desire it." I paused. "But you will never have my love. I will understand if that's not enough for you. I will understand if you want to leave."

Her only reply was to pull me into a tight, gentle embrace and stroke me, massaging her freely falling tears into my back while she whispered out.

"It's enough."

In a moment of rare emotion that didn't involve anger at my betrayers, I found that I was inordinately pleased with her answer.

.

July the Thirty First, my sixteenth birthday, began with a very unorthodox but very satisfying wake up call from Luna, followed by breakfast and a curt summons to Gringotts Bank in Diagon Alley.

"Miss Potter, you're late. We need to get matters sorted with your new estates."

Ah Goblins. Such pleasant, well mannered creatures. Actually they're nasty, untrustworthy little fuckers but they do love a good bit of righteous (or not so righteous) vengeance and, as we discussed our business that day, we discovered that we had some mutual interests in this regard.

"Good. Let's start with me wanting to find a way to end the Potter line with me. I find it to be an acceptable opening gambit to give that fucking treacherous wanker, Dumbledore a good kick in the balls while I figure out the most painful way to eviscerate him."

"Ah yes ... _him_. Our goals seem to be in tune with each other on the issue of the Chief Warlock and your plan has merit. If we do it right it won't be a problem."

"Really?"

"Really. Lord Sirius Black named you his heir in his last _legitimate_ will and if you take up your Ladyship then you can simply fold the Potter family into the Blacks, erasing the name entirely."

"And I can do this when?"

"Today if you wish. I must warn you though, that since you are a female taking up the position of Head of House Black, you will be required to marry within one year."

Well that wasn't okay. Not by a long fucking way ... unless ...

"Does it specify that I have to marry a man?"

The goblin pulled a contract from the stack in front of him and studied it for a few moments.

"It ... does not. Only that you must be married and that it must be to a pureblood magical. The gender of your chosen spouse is not once mentioned."

"I bet the misogynistic, old pricks who thought that up are regretting not dotting their ayes and crossing their tees now."

"Indeed."

We shared an evil smirk between and I had the feeling that working with the Goblins may not be such a chore as I had at first imagined. We seemed to share a certain sense of black-hearted mischief as well as our communal desire to wreak bloody vengeance on those who had wronged us.

"So. Candidates?"

"The Greengrass' eldest daughter is nearly of age, available and meets all of the criteria provided in the contract."

Greengrass. I remembered her from Hogwarts. Black hair, blue eyes, long legs and an absolutely incredible pair of tits. Her fellow Slytherins called her the 'Ice Queen' and she was known for being a total bitch to pretty much anyone who wasn't in her league, socially or intellectually. Which meant everyone.

A cold hearted bitch for the girl without a soul.

It sounded like a match made in ... well not heaven exactly ... but you get the idea.

Not that I had any intention of actually marrying her. A new plan was forming in my head as I signed the parchment with a blood quill and accepted my Head of House ring, not noticing the itch from the quill or the pinch of the ring as my blood was taken, assessed and judged. Since I hadn't dropped dead, I assumed that I had passed that judgement and accessed the reams of knowledge that my pretty, new accessory provided me with to call the Black family retainer to me.

"Kreacher."

The dishevelled old elf that appeared looked at me and my Head of House ring in wonder before bowing low to me.

"My Lady Black."

"Take us home."

.

Interesting fact. The Fidelius charm doesn't mean shit if it's cast on a property without the current Head of House's knowledge or permission. Simply blowing through it, Kreacher apparated us straight into the Head's study at Twelve Grimmauld Place. Which action did cause something of a stir within the walls of my new home.

It took only the time for me to get myself situated behind 'my' desk and put my hand on the Black family ward book for the house before I heard the thunder of many approaching footsteps. I was guessing that all of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix members had been relocated here. Good. All of the rats in one place. It was time to put them on notice. I set up a barrier ward at the entrance with my new book and gestured to the Black elf.

"Kreacher, be a dear and open the door will you. Oh, and do feel free to stay and watch the fun."

Dumbledore was leading the charge and would have been first through the door if it hadn't been for my barrier.

"Miss Potter where have you been, we've been searching every ... "

"That's not my name."

I cut the wanker in chief off, shocking him into silence only for Molly Weasley to take up the baton.

"What? Don't be silly dear I ... "

"Jasmine Potter is _dead_."

That shut the flabby, ginger bitch up alright.

"Jasmine Potter died in a six foot by eight foot cell in Azkaban over a year ago. Of a broken heart. Betrayed by those that she trusted the most. Frightened and Alone. Stripped of her soul and taken by the darkness. Jasmine Potter is dead and I am what was left. I am the High Lady Jasmine Astrea Black ... and you are trespassing in my house."

I caught sight of Granger starting to back down the hallway at this point, obviously afraid of what I would do to them now that I controlled the powerful wards of the dark and dangerous old house. Of course, she was right to be afraid. There was not much compassion left in what little of my soul that the dementors had left me. Actually there was none, since they had taken it all.

She, at least, had the sense to realise that I was not really in a forgiving mood today. Others were not so perceptive. Dumbledore for one who began talking in his 'I'm disappointed with you Jasmine' voice, telling me that everything would be different when I was safely ( _safely?_ ) back under his control at Hogwarts.

"Hogwarts?" My laughter was perfectly judged so that it came out as just the right side of creepy and malicious. "If you think I'm putting myself anywhere near you bunch of lying, treacherous cunts again then you are sorely fucking mistaken old man."

His surprise was all over his stupid face. Actual surprise. How the _fuck_ was someone so arrogant that they were surprised when the person that they framed for murder and threw into Hell told them to go fuck themselves. Enough. I was done with these morons. Well, we were done for today anyway. We would meet again once I got my strength back and had learned a few new tricks.

"Now get out of my house."

Kreacher whispered a very interesting piece of information into my ear.

"Tonks." My voice cut through the hubbub. "You stay."

She didn't look too keen to remain so I tapped my finger on the ward book and pictured her standing in front of my desk. And then, there she was. Well wasn't _that_ a useful little trick to have up my sleeve? Luna and I were sure to be able to get hours of fun out of it. I nearly smiled at the thought of my strange, blonde lover and her enthusiasms before catching myself and getting back to business.

"So Tonks, I hear that you're a Black."

.

Gringott's proved themselves to be most accommodating when I asked them if they knew of a place where I could hold a Black family conclave as they were quick to offer one of their own meeting rooms. A meeting room that they assured me would meet my requirements of being safe, secure and most importantly, totally private. It was magic neutral so wands and listening or tracking charms were useless and I was told that whatever occurred in there was solely the business of those who entered and those who left. However they left.

All eyes turned to me as I stepped through the door the requisite ten minutes late, dressed as I had been on the raid on St. Mungo's, in my white coat and boots again, though not the hockey mask. They were all there. Andromeda and Nymphadora Tonks, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. Oh and some distant, bastard cousin who, rather pompously, called himself Hadrian Lannister-Black.

Shock was not evident on any of their faces since Tonks, on my specific instructions, had briefed them all thoroughly. As I had thought he might be though, Hadrian was the one to notice my consort's presence and bring it up in an extremely crass and un-gentlemanly manner. Needless to say this did not endear him to me.

"This is Luna. She's with me."

"I don't know who you think you are girly but I'm telling you now that I'm not going to stand for some delusional little dyke, whore leading my House. You can ... "

He was so arrogant that he didn't even bother to look at me as he continued to rant about my supposed unsuitability to lead the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, citing my age, lack of experience and sexual orientation. Among other things. I was actually rather pleased since it meant that he wasn't paying any attention to me as I moved into position behind him, brought out my shotgun from beneath my coat and levelled at his back.

The report from the short, muggle weapon was shockingly loud in the small space of the meeting room. More shocking to the magicals in the room, however, was the cloud of red mist and grey, brain matter that mushroomed out across the table as I emptied both barrels into the back of Hadrian Lannister-Black's head.

The remaining part of his wide open neck pumped an impressive jet of bright, arterial blood up and onto my open coat for a few seconds before his body slumped and slid gracefully from the chair and onto the stone floor at my feet. Luna took out a large handkerchief and delicately wiped the blood from her face as I stepped over the corpse of my distant cousin, nonchalantly reloaded my shotgun and sat primly beside her. I placed the recently used sawn-off on the table and rested my hand lightly on the stock before asking with a mocking parody of politeness.

"Any more objections?"

Unsurprisingly, there were none.

"Very well then, let's get on shall we. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black has fallen into dire straits in the last decade or so and I fully intend to halt that ignoble slide into obscurity and reverse it. With all of your help, of course."

"Why? And what's in it for us?"

"The why is simple enough. I need the position it gives me to enact my vengeance on those who betrayed me. If I resurrect the House of Black then that makes it stronger. The stronger the House, the more effective my plans will be. As for what you get out of it well ... let me show you."

Luna reached into her satchel and retrieved three, yellow parchments laying them out in front of me. She then placed a bowl on one side, lighting the flame with a match and a small, shiny, waste paper bin on the other side.

"These are your individual marriage contracts. All of them arranged by your parents ... "

"Mine wasn't." Andromeda interrupted.

"Actually it was. Although admittedly only after the fact and to protect the bloodline. They may not have approved of it but they were smart enough and savvy enough to know that you might need the protection of your House one day if your marriage turned out be ... less than satisfactory. Which, from the bruises that you're currently hiding beneath that very fetching scarf, I would say would be the situation that you now find yourself in. Yes?"

The middle Black sister's head dropped and her face reddened and she managed to mutter out a small, quiet 'yes' before staring down at the surface of the table.

"Now I am aware, through my fabulous new Head of House ring of mine, that none of you are exactly 'living the dream' in your marriages so I am going to end them. Now. Today."

All five of the remaining heads snapped up at this declaration, looking at me with renewed interest and ... hope. There would be a price of course, but for this boon that I was about to grant all of them were prepared to pay it, whatever it may be, without hesitation.

"Let's start with my fellow criminal and another former resident of 'Hotel Azkaban'. Death or divorce Bellatrix?"

"Death."

"Why am I not surprised?" I gave the darkly beautiful older witch the barest hint of an amused smirk. "Very well, death it is."

I crumpled up the contract and dropped it into the fire. You could almost hear the screams as Rodolphus Lestrange died, writhing in agony somewhere hidden away at Death Eater HQ. The screaming stopped and Bellatrix's wedding ring slid off of her finger to hit the floor with a dull thud. One down. On to Narcissa.

"Death or divorce?"

"Divorce."

"Really?"

My surprise clearly only mirrored what everyone else thought so Narcissa gave us her reasoning. It was pretty good too.

"It's so much more cruel to destroy the one thing that Lucius really cares about. His reputation. Also since he'll have to return my obscenely large dowry it will cost him most of his gold too, making him much less useful to the Dark Lord. And we all know what _he_ does to useless minions."

"Fuck Cissy that's just _cold_."

"I prefer the phrase 'harsh but fair', Bella."

"Divorce then?"

"Indeed."

This time I simply tore the contract in half.

Andromeda also opted for a divorce which did not surprise me in the least. Of all the Black sisters she was the most forgiving and the most squeamish. Also her daughter was looking very pale at the 'justice' I had just meted out with my power as Head of House and I knew that she was trying to protect Nymphadora from witnessing the death of her father. No matter how much of a wife beating bastard he was.

"Any other business? No? Excellent. Now then ladies let's talk about how I can get a meeting arranged with Voldemort." I held up a hand in apology to the woman opposite me. "Sorry cousin Bella, I mean the Dark Lord, of course."

.

The next few days were spent with my immediate relatives getting the old house at Grimmauld Place back into some semblance of livable condition. Half way through the de-infestation of the sitting room I realised that this was a much larger job than it first seemed so I drafted in some help. Kreacher wasn't thrilled about the presence of other house elves in his domain until he realised that he now had 'staff'. This made the old Black family retainer's chest swell with something akin to pride.

I also sent Narcissa off to negotiate a marriage contract with the Greengrasses, telling her that working on it would be good practice for her Wizengamot proxy duties.

She made a decent job of it too.

Of course, it amused old Cygnus Greengrass when I turned up at the bank to sign it and changed the name from Jasmine Black to 'The Head of House Black'. I don't know if he was a leglimens or just a really sneaky old bastard but he seemed to know exactly why I did that and gave his approval by chuckling darkly as he signed the altered document.

And at last, when all the other business was done I got my meeting with the man who had tried to kill me as in infant. In the incongruous setting of a heavily warded, small Village Hall in rural Hampshire, I sat down for a one on one treaty negotiation with Lord Voldemort.

.

"Now then Lady Black, since you requested this meeting I believe that you should start. And I must admit to being quite curious as to why you did so, My Lady."

"Do you mind if we drop the honourifics? It's just that the whole 'My Lord, My Lady' business gets so tiresome after a while."

"Very well. It is not a name that I am fond of but, for the duration of our meeting, you may call me Tom."

The snake faced man looked as though he had been sucking on one of Albus Dumbledore's particularly sour lemon drops as he all but spat out the name. I tried not to smirk at him. The ego-maniacal prick. Schooling my features back into a more neutral expression I laid out my proposal.

Essentially it was a pact of non-aggression between the two of us. I promised to put all of the power of my new, but Noble and Most Ancient, House it his disposal and to not kill any more of his Death Eaters (or him). In return he would focus his efforts on Dumbledore's Order and the Ministry of magic and leave me and my family the fuck alone.

I knew that this couldn't be a permanent situation since he seemed un-naturally obsessed with me and the fact that he hadn't managed to finish me off ... well ... ever, so I suggested that it only be enforceable for a period of five years. Time enough for each of us to achieve our goals before we 'went at it'. To sweeten the deal I even let him keep Bellatrix as one of his Death Eaters.

Amazingly he agreed. His recruitment drive must not have been going as well as he'd hoped and the extra time would probably be useful for him. Also, one less enemy, temporarily at least, was a pretty large inducement for him to sign. As such the atmosphere between us seemed a lot less chilly, even after I revealed that we would be making it binding with an unbreakable vow.

"Was there anything else that you wished to discuss Jasmine?"

"Well there is one thing that I've been wondering about all these years. So how _did_ you come back Tom?" His red eyes immediately became suspicious again. "I'm not going to use it against you, I just wanted to know. Call it my Gryffindor curiosity."

He peered closely at me and I met his eye without flinching, opening my mind, thoughts and motives up for his inspection. Cissy had told me how painful it could be when a master Leglimens took your thoughts by force and I had no intention of going through any more pain than was strictly necessary. After a minute or two he withdrew from my mind. Without any un-necessary roughness. And then he began.

"Do you know what a Horcrux is Jasmine?" At my blank, slightly confused expression he continued with a careful explanation. "It is a method of splitting one's soul and binding a fragment of it to an object. As long as the object survives, then so do you."

"Dark magic, of course."

"Of course."

Realisation dawned upon me at last.

"Ahhh, so _that's_ what it was."

During my own explanation of what had happened during the first few months of my stay at 'Hotel Azkaban' we began to piece together a great deal of what Dumbledore had hidden from me 'for my own good'. Between the two of us we reached a pretty accurate theory of what had happened and how I had become his unintentional horcrux on that fateful Halloween night all those years ago.

I'm sure that had I still the capacity to feel such things I would have been as outraged as I previously was on learning of my parents murder. Before the dementors had burned through his soul and started in on mine that is. As it was we ended up having a rather calm and even somewhat academic discussion of these events and their consequences. It was more than a little surreal.

Then I hit him with my final piece of news.

"I'm leaving Britain soon, since there's no need to give each other the temptation to renege on our little deal. And I'm Leaving the House of Black in the hands of one who will continue to support you both politically and financially."

"Dear Merlin, please tell me that you're not leaving it to Bellatrix."

I gave a short bark of amusement.

"Morgana's saggy tits no. I thought Narcissa might be a more ... er ... stable Head of House."

His eyebrow raised briefly before he started nodding slightly, no doubt already weighing in his impressively Machiavellian mind how to deal with the cold, pragmatic blonde. And probably liking his chances a lot better.

"And what is it that you want from me Jasmine?"

"I have only one request Tom."

I gestured for him to come closer and whispered in his small, deformed ear.

"Make the bastards suffer before you kill them."

I had really wanted to kill them myself but unfortunately it had become clear that my incarceration had taken a much greater toll on me than I had first believed. My magic was going to take years, too many years, to recover and there was only so much that I could do the muggle way. I seriously doubted that Dumbledore could be taken out with my twelve gauge. So I had decided to let Voldemort do my dirty work for me. After all, it didn't really matter who killed the traitors so long as they died. Dead was dead.

"All of them?"

"All except Granger, she's mine. I have something _special_ planned for her."

"May I ask how you're going to acquire her Jasmine? From what I understand the little, mudblood is not entirely without intelligence."

"That's the best part of it Tom. I don't need to. She was always the brains behind us, she'll see which way the wind is blowing and then the silly little bitch is going to come to me of her own accord. That's just the way she is. Brilliant, but terribly naive."

The Dark Lord held a hand to his chest and a small smile made it's way to his thin lips as he bowed slightly to me. Perhaps in appreciation of a closet Slytherin and a fellow sadist. I may not trust the blood supremacist ego-maniac to leave me alone but I did trust him in his desire to bring pain and death to those who stood in his way and we parted, if not friends, then at least, not specifically enemies.

.

As I had predicted it took Granger less than a week to work out that she was going to be much better off if she swallowed her pride and came to apologize to me. She had researched how to do so thoroughly, obviously, but my cousins were still quite taken aback at the formal and old fashioned, pureblood, way in which she did it.

"My Lady Black, I have come to pay a debt of reparation to you and the House of Black for my part in your wrongful incarceration."

Oh Goody, a debt of reparation. I had really been hoping that was the way she was going to go. Not letting my mild excitement show at my plan coming together so well I simply stared at her, stony faced.

"Go on."

"I accept that what I did was wrong on many levels and the only thing that I have to offer in my defense is that I trusted Dumbl ... the wrong man." She had seen my hand twitch at her near naming of my worst enemy and immediately corrected herself. "I believed the Headmaster to be infallible and followed his direction without thought of the consequences for others ... or myself. In recognition of my offense I am prepared to make amends without the expectation of forgiveness or leniency."

"Good, you will receive neither."

"I understand, and I offer my unconditional service to you and your House until it is deemed that restitution has been made and that my debt has been paid in full."

She was offering herself to me, thinking that I still wanted her. Arrogant little cunt.

"Hmm alright then Miss Granger. The House of Black accepts your _service_ by blood and by magic, so mote it be."

"So mote it be."

And now I had her at my mercy. Unfortunately for her I didn't have any.

"Bella I believe I promised you a present for helping me with my tete a tete with your other master did I not."

"My Lady is most gracious to remember."

She may be as mad as a box of frogs but Bellatrix knew better than to inject such an important, formal moment with her own brand of raving lunacy. I decided to reward her restraint. Actually, I had decided on this course of action almost from the second that I had taken up the Headship but the insane Death Eater was making it a lot easier for me justify it with her good behaviour.

"There's a good girl. Now then, how would you like a nice, little, bushy haired toy to play with?"

The look on Granger's face when she finally realised what I had just done and what her fate was going to be was simply precious. And priceless. Bellatrix's restraint, however, was all used up by this point and she cackled out her mad laughter as she plucked the conjured collar and lead that now dangled from my fingers (courtesy of Luna) and skipped over to get acquainted with her new slave ... um ... _servant_.

.

We stood on the balcony of our suite on the 'Princess Isabella', hand in hand, and watched in silence as 'Lady Liberty' grew larger and her features began to sharpen into focus. Now that we were away from that graceless, ungrateful pit of hypocrisy and misogenysm that is Wizarding Britain we were feeling much, _much_ more at ease. And free. Free to be just Jasmine and Luna.

Or Jesamine Noire and Lucretia Bonamore, as we now were.

Our escape had been meticulously planned and even assisted somewhat by our friends at Gringotts, who had provided passports, paperwork, visas and enough gold to ensure that we never had to work again if that was what we wanted. The gold would be kept at the bank's North American branch in Salem naturally, but we would have full access to it since it was in the name of Noire.

Better than this, however, was the fact that the goblins had actually managed to make the two of us 'disappear' in a spell-crafting accident. As far as the magical World was concerned, we were dead. Sure we would have to be careful and visiting Britain was right out (not that either of us wanted to go back _there_ ) but yes, basically we were free to live our lives as we pleased. And we pleased to do this together. Well, together with Dobby and Winky who we just couldn't seem to shake off, but still ... we were together.

For the rest of our lives.

The Daily Prophet lay forgotten on the table where we had breakfasted, it's banner proclaiming a new Minister of Magic and a new age for the Wizarding people of Britain. Dumbledore was dead, murdered by the spy Snape and thrown from Hogwarts Astronomy tower. A month later, Snape himself was murdered and Tom had stormed the Ministry of Magic and Hell was sure to follow for those that I had once called my friends. And I can honestly say that I couldn't have cared less.

Let the bastards burn.

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 **As usual I write for me but reviews are always nice and I'd certainly never turn them away.**

 **The 'Princess Isabella' came from a fic that I have been enjoying very much called 'From Southampton to New York and Beyond' by Dorothea Greengrass.**

 **Once again a big thank-you to FateRogue for writing the marvellous 'Blackest of Souls' that was the inspiration for this tale.**

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 **DtR xx.**


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